


A Question of Context

by a_walking_shadow



Category: Bernice Summerfield (Big Finish Audio), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 08:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17546441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_walking_shadow/pseuds/a_walking_shadow
Summary: Irving Braxiatel sends a message, asking a time-travelling professor of archaeology he's friends with to go to a certain location.The Doctor sends a message, asking a time-travelling professor of archaeology he's friends with to go to a certain location.Wires get crossed.





	A Question of Context

**Author's Note:**

> This one came about because Mar posted an idea in the group chat:  
> Consider: brax thinks the whole time the archaeologist he’s working with is Benny. River thinks the mysterious benefactor is the doctor  
> (The doctor and Benny are actually off having tea)
> 
> I hope I've managed to do it justice.

‘You’re the professor?’

‘I am. You were expecting someone else?’

‘Our benefactor said you’d be older.’

‘ _Did_ he, now. How… kind… of him. That’s the problem with time travel, I suppose. You never quite know who you’re going to get.’

Her guide shrugs, then sets off down the street without bothering to check if she’s following. She hurries after him so as not to lose him in the lunchtime crowds. ‘I’m Professor River Song, by the way.’

‘Staal. The site’s down by the river.’

‘Staal… that’s a Sontaran name, isn’t it? All the Killorans I’ve met before have used the names of human military leaders.’

‘Obviously not everyone does.’

He lapses into silence again, and just continues striding down the road. River sighs. The Doctor’s really going to owe her for this one. She’d had _plans_ for this week, and yet here she was, wandering the streets of a colony world still under construction, with no one for company except a surly guide. Surely, if he thought this site was so interesting, he could have just brought her here himself.

‘What’s here, anyway? Archaeologically, that is. I noticed the forests on the way in, there must be some kind of intelligent life.’

‘There have always been rumours of a local civilization but nothing concrete. Not until the body, that is.’

‘The body?’

He pauses, glancing back at her. ‘You didn’t receive our message?’

‘A… friend… of mine left a note, and said there was something interesting here- advanced technology, apparently. That said, he could just be in a melodramatic mood. He does that sometimes.’

‘We’ve been excavating foundations for the administrative buildings down by the river. One of my team, Montgomery, found the bones of something humanoid. We were going to call Galactic Heritage about it, but our benefactor said that’d take too long.’

So this… benefactor… of yours… he recommended me?’

‘He said he knew an archaeologist who could do the job, and let us continue building. We’ve got schedules to meet.’

River frowns. Some part of this doesn’t quite line up, but she can’t figure out what it might be.

‘Your benefactor. What does he look like?’

‘Tall. Humanoid. Wears a suit. Goes on about some guy called Shakespeare. Why?’

‘… oh, nothing. Just making sure we were talking about the same person.’

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, at the Maldovarium…

Benny smiles. She’s been travelling for… well, long enough that getting a chance to stretch her legs is a relief. Braxiatel, for once, actually seems to be in a helpful mood, and has reserved a very, _very_ nice bedroom for her. Of course, that does raise the question of what kind of absurd favour he’s trying to butter her up for… but that can wait until later.

For now, she’s content just to enjoy the facilities. And the bar, of course.

‘Professor?’

‘What? Oh, hello! You must be the service droid. Yep, that’s me. Professor. Huh, I wonder what all the secrecy is about, usually I just go by name…’

‘Your associate has booked a private dining room.’

‘Sounds excellent. Lead the way!’

‘Does the professor wish to change clothes first?’

‘well, now that you mention it… Goodness, some of these dresses are a bit absurd, aren’t they? And a bit big for me, I think… oh, never mind. It’s not like I get this kind of chance every day…’

 

* * *

 

As carefully as she can manage, River lowers herself the last few metres into the trench with the body. The killoran builders who found it had accidentally smashed through one of the arms, almost at the shoulder, and the crumbling bone around the- well, she supposes it would be the jawbone- suggests an unsuccessful attempt to try and remove the body entirely.

At least they stopped. Rescue archaeology isn’t really her thing, but her colleagues at Luna University complain endlessly about companies smashing straight through archaeological sites rather than waiting for Galactic Heritage to turn up and evaluate them.

Despite her request to be left alone, there’s a cluster of canine faces peering down at her. Kids, by the looks of it, and all killoran. Relatives of the workers, maybe? She makes a shushing gesture to them, and then pulls a grid square out of her pack. It’s hard not to laugh outright at their shocked faces- clearly, dimensionally transcendental equipment isn’t exactly common around here.

… They’re probably going to ask their parents to build something bigger on the inside now. Oops.

Shaking her head slightly, River sets the square down over the body, and begins recording the coordinates. There’s still no sign of anything which would make the Doctor interested in this place, but who knows what she’ll find once she actually starts digging.

 

* * *

 

‘Oh, for goodness sake-’

Benny feels her ankle go sideways, yet again. The droid is already waiting at the next corner for her, impatiently, if a droid could be described to wait impatiently. With a frustrated sigh, she pulls off the heels and jogs to catch up, stockinged feet slipping on the marble floors.

She’s definitely never been in this bit of the Maldovarium before. Her previous visits here only took her as far as the, ah, less reputable bars on this place.

‘Is it much further, then?’ It would have been nice if Brax had at least remembered what size shoes to get her. Of course, that’d probably be a bit creepy, too, but creepy might be preferable to unable to walk.

‘Your destination is directly ahead, third door on the left.’

‘Great. Thanks. I think I can take it from here.’

‘As you wish, Professor.’

Benny waits until the droid is out of sight before attempting to slide the remaining distance. Unfortunately, the floor is indeed very slippery, and rather than gliding to her destination, she ends up on the ground in a tangle of limbs and clothing within a few metres.  
The floor is also very hard.  
‘Oh, bugger.’ This bit probably won’t go in her diary.

Having finally managed to get herself upright again, and straightened her clothing as best as she can, Benny gingerly shuffles the last few steps, and pushes open the door.

The man inside is not Braxiatel. For a moment, he looks as bewildered as she feels.

‘Bernice Summerfield! Hello there!’

‘… Is that a bow tie?’

‘Yes. Yes it is. I wear a bow tie now. Bow ties are cool.’

‘And I only know one person with the fashion sense to say that. At least it’s better then the question marks.’

‘I liked the question marks, they were mysterious. But- Bernice Summerfield, look at you! How’s it been? Is your wrist supposed to be blue? I don’t remember your wrist being blue.’

‘It’s blue because these bloody clothes don’t even fit me, and that’s saying nothing about the shoes. They nearabout killed me! Really, Doctor, surely you’ve known me long enough to know I couldn’t have hoped to pull off something like this!’

He pauses for a moment, looking almost guilty, and for a moment Benny wonders if she’s missing something, but then he mutters, ‘I thought you were taller!’

‘I think you were just shorter.’

‘It’s beginning to look that way, yes.’

Benny pauses for a moment, considering him. He looks young, that’s her main thought- except for his eyes, which are so tired, even for him.

What happened? How many lives has he lived now?

At the lull in conversation, the Doctor reaches out and pours them both a glass of wine- at least he remembers that much about her.  
Then he picks up his glass, takes a sip, and immediately spits it out with a horrified face.

Benny finds herself grinning. Same old Doctor, no matter what body he’s in.

 

* * *

 

‘Will this take long, Professor?’

‘Hmm? Oh, no, not much longer. I’ve recorded everything here, and this seems to be a single body and not part of a larger site, so you should be able to keep excavating. The only problem is this here… I think they were holding something.’ Cautiously, she presses the end of her trowel into the ground beneath the “finger bones” of the right “hand”.

Her trowel clangs against something metallic, and she quickly works to excavate it, avoiding the bones with practiced ease. Sure enough, clasped where the palm would have been is a strange looking crystal embedded in a metal case.

No sooner has she bumped the crystal than the world dissolves into blue light, then darkness. The air feels staler, damper, and gravity, while close, isn’t quite the same. She’s probably deep underground- which would explain the darkness.

‘Well then,’ River murmurs, scrambling for a flashlight. Turning it on reveals absolutely nothing- the cave, or wherever she is, seems to be far too large for a single flashlight to make any difference.

River reaches into her pack, thankful that it was transported with her, and withdraws several flares instead.

A moment later, she finds herself standing in the middle of an elaborate-looking shrine… very obviously situated within the body of a crashed spaceship.

‘I guess this is what I was supposed to find.’

Cautiously, she approaches the “altar”. The exact setup is unfamiliar, but she knows a communication system when she sees one. And, when she taps it, the system flares into life.

Oh, she loves old nuclear hyperdrive systems with practically everlasting power cores.

“HELLO SWEETIE”, she types, hits send, and settles down to wait.


End file.
